The Fires of Salem
by cocoa85715
Summary: Sam and Dean as kids've already encountered many supernatural threats that they helped their dad deal with. A strange angel statue comes as a rude awakening for the two brothers as they're sent to Salem, Massachusetts during the era of mass hysteria known as the Salem Witch Trials. Somewhere in time, a strange man notices something amiss... (full summary inside)
1. Chapter 1

**This was supposed to be a ficlet, but it somehow ended up as a full-blown multi-chaptered story. I'm not entirely sure how. Anyways, this is a prompt from Tumblr user hufflepuffhoneybadger. I hope y'all enjoy it! The next chapter will be posted (hopefully) sometime soon.**

**Full Summary: Sam and Dean as children have already encountered many supernatural threats that they helped their dad deal with. A strange angel statue comes as a rude awakening for the two brothers as they are sent to Salem, Massachusetts during the era of mass hysteria known as the Salem Witch Trials. Somewhere in time, a strange man notices something amiss and must travel back in time to stopped the fixed points in time from self-destructing.**

* * *

_Note: Currently, Dean is 10 and Sam is 6._

Dean turned a corner, eyes on the cracked and dirty sidewalk beneath his feet as he and his brother walked home from school. He wasn't really paying attention to anything other than his own thoughts, since today had been a tiring day at school and all he really wanted to do was to go back to their motel room and take a nap.

"D-Dean? What is that?" Sammy asked, his eyes widening as he stared at something over Dean's shoulder.

Dean froze, the fighting skills his father had taught him kicking in as he whirled around, arms up in preparation to defend himself.

As soon as he saw what was behind him, he relaxed. "Sammy, it's just a statue." the ten-year-old boy explained to his younger brother, who was four years his junior.

Sam stared at the statue unblinkingly, slowly shaking his head 'no'.

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, his large green eyes troubled as he examined the statue, which was a stone angel with its hands covering its eyes, like it was crying. Nope, he couldn't see anything weird about it. He told his little brother this, and Sammy continued staring at it, as if he were afraid to take his eyes off of it.

"It wasn't behind you before." Sam whispered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I think your imagination is playing tricks on you, Sammy."

His six-year-old brother huffed, crossing his arms as he stuck his lower lip out in a pout. "It is not! It wasn't there before, I swear!" he protested with a stubborn glare.

"Right." Dean replied, as he turned away from the statue. "C'mon, we'd better get home before Dad gets back from his trip."

Sam reluctantly turned his eyes away from the winged stone figure.

Before Sam and Dean even finished turning around, they disappeared, touched by an Angel.

The first thing Sam did when he reappeared was trip over his own two feet. He squeaked in surprise and pain as he landed on overgrown grass, where there was previously cracked concrete.

"What the- where are we?" He heard his big brother mumble as he helped Sam to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Sam took a look around. He let out a strangled gasp. Where there were once tall buildings and overcrowded streets, there were now endless waves of green grass and a nearly cloudless sky. Now, instead of the air smelling of smog

How did they get in a middle of a field? Last time Sam checked, they were walking by that creepy graveyard on their way home from school...

"Hey , hey mister!" Sammy called, noticing a man walking by leading a huge brown and white cow.

"Sam, don't talk to strangers!" Dean hissed, trying to grab the boy by the arm and pull him back. Sam managed to twist his way out of his grasp, however, and ran up to the man.

The man turned toward Sam as the boy ran closer, Dean following behind him grudgingly. "Hello children, what are you two doing way out here? And shouldn't you be in school?" The man asked, staring at them thoughtfully. Sam shuffled a little so that he was further behind his brother, uncomfortable beneath the stranger's blue-eyed gaze.

The young man was wearing a strange, old-fashioned, threadbare loose-fitting shirt and knee-length pants. Over his shirt was a long vest, and he was also wearing white stockings and black shoes with buckles. On his head was a wide-brimmed straw hat, beneath which Sam could barely see locks of curly black hair, which was pulled back in a low ponytail. His forehead glistened with sweat.

"We're lost." Dean answered, staring sadly at the ground. Sammy stared at Dean, slightly awed. His big brother had always been good at pretending.

"What are your names? Perhaps I know your parents." The man said, taking off his hat to scratch his head.

"My name is Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam." His big brother answered, ruffling his hair playfully. Sammy grumbled, attempting to fix his hair, which was now sticking out in every direction.

"I apologize, I do not know anyone by that name." The man said sadly, putting his hat back on.

"It's okay, Mister. Can you at least tell us where we are?" Dean asked, glancing down at Sammy worriedly.

"Certainly, I'd be happy to help you in any way. After all, we are all God's children, and it is my duty as a servant of God to help other people in any way I can. We are currently a few miles away from Salem, Massachusetts."

A man wearing a light brown trenchcoat over a pinstriped brown suit and, strangely enough, a pair of Converse, was standing in a huge, futuristic-looking room.

The room defied all laws of physics, as it somehow fit inside a blue police telephone box, which are, as you may know, relatively small. Large, pale orange coral-like structures spiralled out of the floor, and a raised metal walkway led from the entrance to the center control panel.

The strange man was running around said control panel, and was, seemingly at random moments, flipping switches, turning knobs, and pressing buttons.

He was startled, however, when a device that looked like a late 20th century open-reel tape recorder began dinging continuously.

"What?" He asked in shock and confusion, his large expressive brown eyes squinting slightly.

He had a British accent, and his strange choice in shoes squeaked on the metal floor as he crossed the room and bent to pick up the strange dinging device. He quickly straightened up, and began fiddling with it until it stopped dinging. He brought it to the control panel and plugged it into one of the many wires hanging from the panel.

Plugging in the strange device brought up various photographs, a series of numbers representing a daye, and a map with a blinking red dot.

"Oh, no, no, no..." He muttered to himself as he ran a long, thin hand through his thick brown hair, which was so messy it looked like it was trying to defy gravity.

"They're not supposed to be in late 1600s Salem, Massachusetts...their timelines are fixed, this shouldn't even be possible...this is not good, very not good...the Salem Witch trials are never a good time period to end up in..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Full Summary: Sam and Dean as children have already encountered many supernatural threats that they helped their dad deal with. A strange angel statue comes as a rude awakening for the two brothers as they are sent to Salem, Massachusetts during the era of mass hysteria known as the Salem Witch Trials. Somewhere in time, a strange man notices something amiss and must travel back in time to stop the fixed points in time from self-destructing. **

**Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave constructive criticism, if you have any! :D**

* * *

"Salem? Are you sure?" Dean asked, panicking slightly. They had just learned about the Salem Witch Trials during school today, and now that he thought about it, the way the man was dressed did look an awful lot like the pilgrims in the pictures...but that was way back in the 16th century or something! Maybe the guy was dressed like that because he was a pilgrim enthusiast, or maybe he was one of those people who reenact historical events for fun...

"Aye. The town itself is a few miles that way." The man replied, pointing east. Indeed, if Dean looked closely, he could see trails of chimney smoke spiraling into the sky from that direction.

"Can you take us there?" Sammy asked, squinting at the distant smoke.

"Sure, boy. It's a very long ways away, though, and it's not suited for a boy your age to walk that much. Would you like to ride on old Dandelion here's back for our journey?" The man asked Sam kindly. The boy nodded eagerly and the man helped lift him onto the cow's back. Dandelion the cow didn't seem to mind the extra weight, however, and continued chewing its cud.

"Would you care for a ride too, Dean?" the man said as he turned toward him. Dean shook his head 'no'. He had walked much farther than that on one of his dad's hunting trips, and he was fine.

"Let us leave for Salem now, then." The man announced, and off they went. The older male led the group, Dean keeping pace with him. The cow with Sam perched on its back ambled along behind them.

They entered Salem just as the Sun reached its zenith. Men, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, similar to the ones their guide was wearing, were walking around, most carrying farming tools or other working equipment. Others, mainly women, chatted amiably as they hung clothes to dry in the heat of the afternoon sun.

The houses were mostly simple wood cabins, but the closer they got to the center of Salem, the more intricate the houses became, until they reached what appeared to be a large meeting house, located in the very heart of the colonial town.

However, there seemed to be a sort of...tension in the air. As if everyone were watching one another, waiting to catch someone making a mistake or doing something wrong. The women especially were given suspicious glares from passing men.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Sam from his perch far above them on Dandelion the cow's back.

"The town meeting house." the man answered simply, tying Dandelion to a nearby post and helping Sam down from her back.

"Oh. I'm hungry, can we eat now?" Sam asked, his young mind easily distracted.

The man chuckled. "Later, young one."

Dean watched this exchange through suspicious green eyes. Just because this man had helped them didn't mean he could be trusted. Who knows, this could all be some sort of demonic trick!

But no matter what happened, he vowed to himself, he would take care of Sammy.

It's what a good big brother would do, after all.

"Ah, John Howland, what a pleasant surprise!" a man who looked to be in his early 40's said with a smile. "We were not expecting you back until early evening, at the earliest!"

Mr. Howland greeted the older man with a small smile. "I'm afraid, Minister, that my early arrival does not come with glad tidings."

The Minister's smile instantly faded, and he stared at Mr. Howland. "Explain."

"Come here, Sam and Dean." Mr. Howland called, and a ten year old boy with brown hair, green eyes, and freckles spattered across his nose entered from where he was waiting in the entrance hall of the meeting house, followed by his floppy brown-haired younger brother with big brown doe eyes.

The Minister furrowed his brow in confusion, looking toward Mr. Howland for an explanation.

"I found these boys wandering in the field earlier today when I was taking Dandelion in from the pasture. She has been rather sickly lately, and I hoped that by putting her in a field closer to my home I would be able to take better care of her." The young farmer explained.

The Minister's eyes softened as he turned his gaze to the boys. "What is your family name, children?" he asked.

"Winchester." Dean answered for the both of them.

The Minister smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I know no person with that name." he said.

"It is alright, Minister. I believe they are from a different colony." Mr. Howland assured him.

"I see..." the Minister commented, staring at them thoughtfully. "They shall be given a place to stay here in Salem for the time being, at least until their parents are found." he announced suddenly.

But...but he wanted to go home! Back to his dad and their motel room and switching schools all the time and...home... Dean's eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let them out. He would never cry in front of Sammy. NEVER.

"Where will they stay, then?" Mr. Howland asked with a confused glance their direction.

"Hmm...are there any persons in Salem who can afford two extra mouths to feed?" the Minister asked thoughtfully.

"Well...there IS Thomas and Mary...they only have a little girl about Sam's age named Jessica." Mr. Howland answered. "The others have many more children, and cannot afford more."

The Minister nodded. "Good, take them to Thomas and Mary's home and introduce them. Get them settled down." the older man ordered.

"Yes, Minister." replied Mr. Howland, and with a tip of his wide-brimmed straw hat, exited the room. "Come along, boys."

Dean went to follow Mr. Howland, but when he noticed that Sam was going up to the Minister, he tagged behind him.

"Excuse me? Sir?" his little brother said, staring up at the Minister with his big brown eyes.

"Yes, little one?" the Minister responded with a benevolent smile.

"What's a minister?" Sam asked.

The Minister's eyes snapped up to meet John Howland, an unspoken question hanging in the air. What kind of God-fearing young man didn't know what a minister was? Even at Sam's young age, he was expected to know important things such as this!

"The minister is the man who leads religious services and does other important duties within the colony." the Minister explained, exchanged a suspicious look with Mr. Howland.

"Oh." Sam muttered, before turning and coming up to Mr. Howland. "Can we have food now?" the six-year-old asked.

"When you arrive at the place you will be staying at for the time being, you can." answered John Howland with an amused half smile, though suspicion still shined in his blue eyes.

"Yay!" Sam exclaimed cheerfully as they walked out of the Minister's office.

Meanwhile, in the field Sam and Dean first appeared in, a large blue box appeared out of thin air, emitting a strange sound as it slowly faded into existence.

Flipping switches and pulling random levers and doo-dads, the strange man with the pin striped suit hastily input commands into the machine, resulting in a response of hums and swooshing noises. As soon as he knew that the device wouldn't explode and tear a hole through the fabric of space and time, he ran to the entrance and stuck his head out the door of the police public call box.

"Well this is boring." the man, also known as the Doctor, commented as he stepped out, locking the door behind him.

"It must be Sunday today. Nothing exciting never happens on Sunday." he muttered as he took a look around his peaceful surroundings.

"The Salem Witch Trials are a lot less...burn-y than I remember them.." the Doctor commented as he ambled along toward the distant smoke that marked the presence of a town which was hopefully Salem, Massachusetts. If not, it would be hell trying to get the TARDIS to the correct time period.

"Well," the Doctor said with a tilt of his head, "Then again, I'm not the one being burned at the stake this time. That was a rather nasty regeneration." he mused out loud with a cringe.

"Didn't I tell myself I'd never come back to this time period after that happened?" the Doctor asked himself, shaking his head.

Oh Rassilon, he really WAS bad at listening to people, including himself...

The Doctor furrowed his brow in thought. The fact that the people of Salem already knew him presented a problem though. How was he to get into the town to rescue Sam and Dean if the people of Salem already knew him? Well, they only knew one of his old faces, so...he'd probably be alright. His attire was nothing like the local fashion though, and sticking out was bad news. It could get you marked as a witch, which was what happened to him all those years ago...They wouldn't get more chances at life like he did, though.

The Doctor walked a bit faster, determined to rescue Sam and Dean before anything bad could happen to them.

After all, who else could stand out more than the future vessels of Michael and Lucifer?


	3. Chapter 3

"M-Mommy?" Dean gasped, his green eyes filling with tears. For once, he sounded as young as he was supposed to be.

The blonde woman who looked so much like his mother-and even had the same name-stared at him, completely confused. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"Are you my mommy? Or are you just one of those monster my Dad hunts pretending to be her?!" Dean screamed, startling everyone. He was unable to stop the tears from spilling out of his eyes, and he wiped at his eyes with an annoyed scowl. He was a hunter, damn it, not some wimp!

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sammy asked worriedly, tugging on his brother's shirtsleeve.

"Nothing, Sam. Go ahead and play with the other kids." Dean replied gently, pushing him toward where the other kids were quietly playing.

"Okay…" Sammy replied, hesitantly walking over to the other children.

Even as a kid, his Sammy was smart, Dean thought with a proud grin.

Mr. Howland sent Mary a suspicious glare. "Don't speak to Mary in that way, Dean." he scolded. Dean quickly focused back on the conversation at hand.

"But it's true, Mr. Howland!" Dean protested with a scowl at the woman, who was looking increasingly nervous as their conversation gathered more and more attention from nearby townspeople.

"What is?" Mr. Howland asked, gritting his teeth in frustration from the boy's sudden and extreme change in demeanor.

"She looks like my Mom!" answered Dean, scowling at his mother's lookalike.

Mr. Howland sighed, massaging his temples. "What of it?" he questioned. Their conversation was beginning to draw a crowd, which whispered in the background and stared suspiciously at all of them, Mary and Dean especially.

"My mom died when I was little." Dean said darkly. "And her name was Mary."

A few of the larger men charged forward from the gathering crowd, fueled by their angry, fearful cries.

"Witchcraft!"

"She's working with the Devil!"

"Burn her! Send her to Hell where she belongs!"

"She has been tricking us!"

"Go join Satan in Hell, witch!"

"How dare you possess a dead woman's body, demon?!"

"You deserve to die!"

The crowd screamed insults and accusations at Mary, who stood trapped between two strong men, terrified tears streaming down her face. "N-no, I'm not a witch, you-you don't understand…the poor boy is just confused…" she tried to explain, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to make her voice louder than the angry mob, who was now watching as she was escorted towards the prison.

The crowd began to cheer as Mary disappeared into one of the holding cells, and was quick to disperse.

"The witch will be punished for her crimes against God." one person muttered as he walked away, gripping the rosary beads hanging around his neck tightly.

"I'm sorry, Dean and Sam. I did not realize she was a witch." Mr. Howland said apologetically.

"Witch?" Dean asked, confused. "She wasn't a witch. Witches don't usually disguise themselves as dead people."

Mr. Howland stared at him curiously. "What do you mean, young one?"

Dean scowled, hating being called 'young one'. He wasn't young, he was ten! And he certainly knew how to fight better than Mr. Howland…

"I MEAN that that wasn't a witch. It's more likely she's a shapeshifter or a demon." Dean replied, irritated. What kind of hunter didn't know the difference between a witch, a demon, and a shapeshifter? Even the newest of hunters knew THAT, at least! Damn civilians, pretending to be hunters…

Well…maybe they weren't hunters. But…hunters are the only people who know about witches…right?

—

"TARDIS, why did you take me to the wrong time period again?" the Doctor whined as he entered in the (hopefully) correct coordinates and times into the controls. The TARDIS hummed in reply, then the sound of its gears grinding as it disappeared rang in the air.

"Because I needed to be there? TARDIS, that was the San Fransisco Fire of 1906, and there were mammoths and Silurians wandering the streets as if it were normal! Time is collapsing, and you wanted me to save a few lives when the whole universe is in danger?" the Doctor protested, glaring at the ceiling. There was no response from the time machine.

"We're here." the Doctor announced irritably when he heard the TARDIS land, shrugging on his long brown coat.

He strode straight out of the machine, slamming the door behind him.

"Lover's quarrel, then?" asked a feminine voice, amused.

He whirled around, sending mud and tufts of grass flying as his Converse dug deep holes into the wet soil. His face split into a happy grin when he saw who it was.

"Ah! Amelia Earhart, feminist pilot extraordinaire! Haven't seen you in a while." the Doctor greeted her.

Amelia strode over to him, her lips pulling upwards slightly into a dark smirk. The Doctor didn't seem to notice this, however, as he spread out his arms, expecting a hug.

The loud crack of her hand hitting his face echoed through the clearing as Amelia Earhart slapped him. Hard.

The force of her blow sent the Time Lord reeling, and he stumbled backwards a couple of steps, gripping his face. "What was that for?" he whined, trying to soothe his throbbing cheek.

"You did something to my plane." Amelia hissed, eyes narrowed in anger.

The Doctor's eyebrows shot skyward when he realized just what she was talking about. "Oh…uh…I-I can explain…" he stuttered nervously.

"It sent me to a DIFFERENT PLANET." the pilot yelled at him.

"I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry…but I had to." the Doctor said mournfully. "Your disappearance was a fixed point in time. You had to disappear, otherwise time would collapse in on itself, like it's doing now."

Amelia relaxed slightly. She hadn't completely forgiven him, but at least she got an explanation. "What do ya mean, 'like it's doing now'?" she asked, curious.

"The entirety of time and space is dependent on two lost, scared little boys far from home." the Doctor answered grimly.

—

It was decided that Sam and Dean would be staying at Mary's house for the time being, though since she was accused, there was only her husband Thomas and her little girl, Jessica in the house.

Her husband was quite welcoming of them, even though they just took his wife away. It seemed as if he'd been expecting she'd be declared a witch for a long time now.

Sam made quick friends with Jessica, who was the same age as him. The little blonde girl and his brother had been playing for the whole day.

"Nightie night, Jess! Sweet dreams!" Sam called to her as she left to go to bed. She smiled at him over her shoulder and closed the door to her room. It seemed as if his brother had even given her a nickname!

"Have fun today, Sammy?" Dean asked from where he had been setting up a sleeping area for them on the floor of the main room.

"Yeah, Jess is really nice and sweet and smart and pretty…" Sam said dreamily. His eyes went huge and his face turned red as he realized what he just said.

Dean smiled mischievously. "Ooh, Sammy likes Jess!" he teased.

Sam looked at him, confused. "Of course I like her…she's my friend, isn't she? he asked, his brown eyes wide and innocent.

Dean shook his head and smiled, ruffling his little brother's hair. "Of course she is, Sammy."

"Hey!" Sam protested, attempting to fix his floppy brown mop of hair. Dean only grinned teasingly at him, and in retaliation, Sam stuck his tongue out at him.

Dean gasped dramatically, looking offended. "How dare you stick your tongue out at me!" he growled, before tackling his brother to the floor and tickling him mercilessly.

"Stop it! Stop it! DEEEEAAN!" Sam squeaked between breathless giggles, attempting to squirm out of Dean's grasp, which was unusually strong for his age and size, or at least to Sam it was.

"Never!" Dean declared, sitting on his brother's chest. "I'm the winner, you're the loser!" he taunted as Sam began attempting to get him off.

"Hey, get offa me, you're heavy!" Sammy complained, punching his older brother's legs in a futile attempt to get him off.

"Not until you say it." Dean said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"Aww, but Dean, you always cheat when I say that!" Sam whined. He glared heatedly up at his brother.

"I promise I won't this time!" Dean exclaimed with a cheerful grin.

"You promise? Pinky promise?" asked Sam, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, I pinky promise to not cheat." he sighed, shaking pinky fingers with his brother below him.

Little did Sammy know, his brother was crossing the fingers of his other hand where his brother couldn't see them which, as you may be aware, negates any pinky promise made.

"Roll over, roll over, my dead dog Rover." Sam muttered. He hated saying that.

Dean quickly rolled off of him, leaving Sam gasping as he once again regained the use of his full lung capacity. He lay on the floor for awhile, trying to recover from being squished beneath his brother, who was now lying next to him.

"Roll back, roll back, my dead dog Jack!" Dean yelled, before rolling back on top of Sam.

"Deeeeeean! You pinky promised!" Sam shouted, his voice muffled beneath his brother.

Dean shrugged. "I was crossing my fingers." he answered, unapologetically.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Of COURSE his brother would cross his fingers. What else was he expecting? "Get offa me." Sam grunted, and with a wide grin, Dean got off, pulling Sam to his feet with him.

That's when they noticed Thomas, who was watching them from the doorway with a strange little half smile, probably remembering a moment from his childhood or something like that. Dean didn't know. He didn't really care, for that matter.

"Time for bed, boys." the man said with a fond smile.

"Oh come on, Mr. Thomas! Five more minutes, pleeeeease?" Dean whined, giving him the puppy dog eyes. They always worked on chicks, so he figured he'd give it a shot on Mr. Thomas.

The man wasn't fooled by Dean's wide pleading eyes, however. "Time for bed." he repeated calmly. With a sigh, the two boys began settling down on the soft blanket spread on the wooden floor. Sleeping on the floor would probably hurt in the morning, but Dean had slept in worse places, so he'd be fine. Sam would be okay too; his little brother was tough as nails, despite his young age.

As soon as they were settled in and ready for bed, Thomas exited the room silently.

The whole house was quiet save for the wind blowing outside and the boys' breathing. The dim candlelight cast dancing shadows across the walls, and the flickering lights contorted into strange shapes on the cabin walls.

"Hey Dean?" Sam whispered, turning so that he was on his side facing his brother.

"What is it Sammy?" Dean replied, just as quietly.

Sam was silent for a moment. "We're not in the right time, are we?" he asked, his brown eyes wide and sad.

"No we're not, Sammy." Dean replied, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers in the universe. His brother was smart, Dean knew this, but he figured that maybe if he pretended everything was okay, Sam wouldn't figure out what was happening. It didn't work as well as he thought it would.

"Are we ever gonna get back, ya think?" Sam asked, "I have school tomorrow."

Dean let out a quiet chuckle. That was his brother; always thinking of school first. His laughter dissipated, however, at the thought of going home. "I don't know, Sammy. I don't know."

Honestly…he didn't really wanna go home. Here, Dad couldn't hurt him or call him names or train him. It was nice, not being treated like a soldier for once in his life.

But…his father would miss him, despite how John has treated him in the past…and Dean would miss him too, or at least, to an extent.

With these thoughts waging war in his mind, Dean fell into an uneasy slumber.

—

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the late chapter, as I've been quite busy with school lately. As compensation, though, I've posted this really long chapter. It turned out to be eight pages on Google Docs, and considering that I've been writing this whole story in a note on my phone, that's a really long chapter. Anyhoo, I hoped you liked it! Please comment your thoughts.**

_(also I wanted to write that bit of fluff at the end because reasons)_


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